Trip on the Blue Strip
by missingthepoint
Summary: A new baby on the way will put the happy marriage of Franny and Cornelius to the test. Will they be able to handle another baby while the other is bouncing off the walls or will their future end before it can even begin?
1. When the Strip came out Blue

**A/N**: I do not own Meet the Robinsons. Disney does. I watched this movie a long time before it premiered on Disney, and my reasons for watching it on on-demand during Hurricane Gustav is easy-Fran Robinson and her singing frogs troupe. Dang, do I love those singing frogs.

I hope you guys enjoy and sorry for the briefness!!

P.S. Thanks SM13 you're words of advice and encouragment are always appreciated. Opinions too!!

* * *

_When the strip came out blue…_

The rain was pounding furiously on the windows; drips of water trailing down as fast as Billie's toy train set. Thunder roared and lighting thrashed throughout the night, and as everyone in the Robinson household slept peacefully in their bedrooms. All were snoring softly or in some cases, particularly the latest inhabitant Art, loud snoring, but all was peaceful, all was still in the home of the Robinsons.

Yet, on the top floor, on this stormy and loud night a young couple and their two year old son could not sleep as they pleased.

"Franny, is it finished yet?" Lewis, who at this point in his life was now called Cornelius, struggled to spurt out as he cradled his two year old son into a comfortable lullaby. The puffy eyed, red cheeked two year old hiccupped as his father gently cradled him in his strong arms, feeling the world around him come into place as the thunder and lighting began to fade away from his ear shot.

Breathing in deeply, her brown eyes staring hard at the white, plastic device in her grasp, she almost didn't hear her husband's question, "No, it hasn't." Letting a visible shiver go through her she went on, "Lewis, do you even think it's possible. We've been using the pill and we've been very careful at what times we've been doing it."

"It doesn't cancel out the possibility," he cut her off short, "do you remember the anniversary party, garage, and champagne, did you take your pill then?"

Fran blushed at her husband who was sitting on the bathroom floor with a nonchalant expression on his face. He had successfully cradled Wilbur back into slumber; he was sleeping soundly on his father's chest, the sound of his heartbeat pacifying him for the rest of the night.

With all honesty, she hated this.

Pregnancy wasn't something she despised or detested; it wasn't something she dreaded or hope would end soon. No, pregnancy was something she found herself fearing and concerned over. Even with Wilbur when she delicately opened the cardboard package and carefully read the instructions over she felt a knot twisting inside her stomach. That time she had flown solo, which she preferred, and had gone to a local diner and used the ladies restroom for the past ten minutes.

Two minutes to force the pee out, one minute to balance it enough that it didn't drown the swab, three minutes for the stupid little booger to reveal itself, and four minutes for her to let it sink in.

In reality, it had taken her four hours before she returned home to Lewis.

Later on it had taken her four days to tell Lewis she was pregnant.

It had taken four weeks, two hours, 45 minutes, and ten seconds before they had resolved the giant argument that transpired when she finally gathered the nerve to tell him.

* * *

"_Franny I understand that you were afraid, I am too," he breathed into her neck, "but you can't keep those kinds of things away from me."_

_He held her close in her arms, breathing in her scent, making note how slightly different it was from all the other times he held so intimately. She must have used a new shampoo, her hair smelled of lavender rather than its regular tropical scent. His arms wrapped around her in a manner that registered to the brain as securing, but in truth Lewis held his young wife as a restraint._

_Fran didn't look up at him. It felt as if her body was melting into his, if it was possible that is. His steady heartbeat brought her peace, the warm thump-thump of the vital organ made her eyes heavy and without thinking, "I believe the baby would enjoy listening to your heart."_

_Lewis cocked his head to the side, "Do you really believe that?"_

_Fran looked up at him and nodded, "Yes, yes I do." She traced circles on his bare chest, "The heartbeat is probably the most peaceful music in the world."_

"_I can't believe you said that," he chuckled, "more peaceful than a frog's singing?"_

"_A frog's singing is rhythmic; it stems from the soul," she kissed his nose, "you silly boy."_

"_So, what's the heart?"_

_Their lips brushed against each other, "The heartbeat comes from the heart. The natural rhythm of the sound is beautiful and comforting."_

_Lewis leaned deeper into the bed sheets, his scientific brain racking up the philosophic statement his wife just told him. It was sometimes difficult for a man of his nature to understand what came out of his wife's mouth, but he would just go with it and reply with, "You're right." Instead, he maneuvered his hands away from her waist and traveled downwards to her abdomen, placing a warm hand on where the tiny embryo was serenely placed, awaiting his or her time of arrival._

_Fran moved her lean frame onto the mattress, so Lewis was now on top instead underneath. _

"_I'm going to be a daddy," resting his head right beside her abdomen, hoping to hear some sort of movement._

_Fran laughed at him, "There's only a tiny egg down there, honey."_

_He kissed the spot where his future child rested, "I know, but still there is someone in there. Isn't that the beauty of it?"_

_Lying on a feather pillow, Fran closed her eyes and pretended not to hear him. The beauty of it, she really couldn't say at the time. The steady pounding of another life's heart inside her and the casual kicks, it all frightened her._

_Opening her eyes upwards to a white ceiling, Fran allowed a small curve of a smile to spread across her features._

"_Yeah, I guess so."_

* * *

When the strip came out blue, Lewis and Fran curled up together on the floor of the bathroom. The storm continued to rage on, the thunder roaring and the lighting striking, but Wilbur slept on, his father's heaving chest bringing comfort to the toddler while his parents stared at the tiny, white plastic device in shock.

It came out blue.

A tiny blue cross indicating what the two of them both feared and loved.

"I wonder if it's a boy or a girl." Franny chuckled nervously as she raised the test into the light for a better view. "I guess having another boy wouldn't hurt after all."

Lewis smirked, "What about a girl? I think Wilbur would need a little sister."

Taking a seat beside her husband and son, Franny punched Lewis jokingly in the arm, "Trust me Lewis, I am a little sister, I know what they _can_ and _will_ do to their older brothers."

Lewis glanced down at his son, "Maybe you're right."

"Aren't I always?" She laughed heartily, "Don't worry love; I'm positive whether if it's a boy or a girl that Wilbur will be just fine."

The couple took one final look at their beautiful babe. Sleeping peacefully in his father's strong grasp Wilbur was completely oblivious to what was going on around him. He wasn't aware that the life he had known previously was about to change dramatically.

But it isn't it like always like that when a new baby is on the way?

Lewis smiled and nodded, "Yeah, I think he'll be just fine. Won't you Wilbur?"

They could have sworn they saw the toddler's face light up as the storm began to fade back from where it came from.

* * *

**A/N: **...Do not shoot me. This is actually the prototype of Baby and Me found in my other jump drive. I read over it, "Where have you been all this time!" After reading it, I started another chapter, and then another. I expanded on this story so much, I decided to continue it for the sake of it. I was having fun with the story, and although Baby and Me will remain here for the time being (comparison issue) this will be my new project. For those who have read Baby and Me, I do apologize I did not mean for this happen, it just did. I'll try my best with my updates; time is never on my side. Moving on...

Two things: 1. I know there are stories out there with Wilbur having a sibling. 2. I know most people hate ocs. I believe this plot bunny has a lot of potential and appeal if done right. Hopefully, I can do it right. Also, this is more of an expnansion of the Meet the Robinson world, sort of. Other family members stories will be told, one way or another in this tale. The baby is part of the plot, but I'm going to stray away for fun's sake. I'll hope you all have fun!!

For the record I, more than half, know where this story is heading. I have it planned out in my head; just need to get it down on paper. So, I will truly appreciate any positive, negative, constructive criticism anyone will be willing to give.

To those who decide to read, review, or do anything else of the sort thank you. Your input is really valuable to me-besides, how else am I suppose to know how a two year old Wilbur is going to react to a new brother or sister arriving?


	2. Enter Tadpole

**A/N: **Once again, I do not own Meet the Robinsons.

Thank you to those who chose to read, review, or do anything else of the sort. Reviews are nice though, it makes me feel all good and snuggly inside-as if I did something right in this screwy world. ...And I hear my sister playing the wii fit in the front, lol.

* * *

"Wilbur would you please…" she sighed, resigned, "no Honey, Mommy's not getting mad, just frustrated-now please, _stop_."

Cornelius watched the two interact with an expert's eye. His wife, Francesca, moved briskly around the small bedroom, grabbing shirts, pants, and pull ups of various colors. The way she moved around the bedroom left him in a state of awe; heels that could be no higher than four inches and wearing a constricting bubble dress, she moved with elegance around the cluttered room with an elegance that seemed to be programmed inside her brain. _Knowing her parents, I wouldn't doubt it._

"Now Wilbur, you stay still you hear me."

The toddler, whose face was red with unshed tears and a strong expression of displeasure on his face, began to fuss. Cornelius felt an urge to intervene, to assist his wife in this problem, but he was aware of her spirits. He was aware if he did intervene and attempt to assist, she would only rebuke him for doubting her abilities as a mother. He remained at the doorway; his lean body placed at the side and continued to watch this display of family interaction unravel.

"But Mommy, I don't wants ta go ta the partee. I wanna go fishin' with Grand-pa!" "Fishin' fishin' fishin'!!!"

"I know Tadpole, I know," she nodded vigorously while buttoning the shirt quickly, "but I promised a friend of a friend that I would arrive, and there will be many other children your age there too, Tadpole."

Fran frowned when she saw the look in her son's eyes. A look that was both trusting and skeptical at the same time; she marveled at how observant a two year old could be at times. She had to ignore it, the look her son was giving her, and continue at the task of hand. Silence came to the two year old for a short moment; watching intently, much like his father hidden from view, the form of his mother was hurrying about, as if unsteady and unbalanced. Her hands were fidgety, and she seemed nervous, but he could not see why.

All he knew, all that he could understand being the two year old he was, was that he did not want to go to the party.

"Stand."

He stood on the bed.

"Careful Tadpole," she guided his chubby legs through the pants', "we don't need you falling do we?"

He stuck out his tongue in rebellion. When he caught sight of the firm look on his mother's face, he quickly stuck it back in his mouth. No use in fussing, no use in fighting, he was going to that party.

It was his cue to enter the room. His wife was placing the shoes on now, and Wilbur-still upset at the turn of events, was prepared for the awaiting event, and he could see that his presence was not exactly needed but he knew his absence would be felt. He safely venture inside the room and cheer his son up; in that psychology way, he would be convincing the two year old to the thinking of his mother, if only temporarily. He chose to remain in the place where he was; he did not mind watching this unfold. It was unfolding quite nicely too.

"I promise you, you are going to have fun, Tadpole, you hear." The way she was phrasing her words made it sound more of a command than a statement. "You're not going to be alone either, I'm going to be there, Charlie's going to be there-"

"Charlie too?"

She would have smirked right then and there at her tactful usage of words. The face once full of gloom quickly turn into a hopeful spark that Franny intended to ignite into a fire. "Oh yes, Charlie's going to be there, because his mom is going to be there and she's also bringing her fine batch of beignets as well."

Cornelius perked from this. He did not know Franny was going to be arriving with a friend. He still remained at his perch, his arms folded across his chest, a suspicious shadow casting on his face.

"See Tadpole," she picked him up, rubbing her nose against his (earning a satisfied giggle from the toddler), "you are going _to_ have fun, and I am sure of it!" Then she cradled the boy in her arms, tickling him with a smile of glee and playfulness on her delicate features. Her son squealed a laugh filled with childish delight, and his eyes (reminiscent of his mother's) shined into her own, he kissed her softly on the cheek.

The sights of it, nearly made Cornelius' expert eyes tear up.

The heartfelt sentiment began to fade away as realization came to him. It was not bone crushing or heart wrenching, but a matter of fact way that he had somehow seemed to neglect. It involved a small matter of coitus and conception. After a week of neglecting the matter, more on Fran's part than his, it seemed that their son would forever remain in the dark about it until the day of delivery.

A sinking feeling was rising inside him.

This feeling changed into a feeling of movement. He could feel his legs jolting inside their sockets. He had to move. He had to speak. Because if he didn't, then nothing would be done, and they would be left in this hole until the nine months would end or in Wilbur's case…

"Daddy look, all clean and ready to party!" He could see that she was proud of her work. There son did look incredibly clean and dashing (for a two year old) for an awaiting party. A smug look on her face told him that she was daring him to arrive from his "hiding" place and help her out in her time of need. He knew, he honestly knew, resting inside of her, no, not her uterus, that she was relieved that he did not arrive, stooping in to her rescue.

"Your mom does know how to throw a party," he knelt to the level of his young son, staring deep into the mini clone of his mother. Oh yes, it was something straight out of the "Twilight Zone". Wilbur appeared so much of his mother; it was hard to say that he was the father. Nearly the same hair color, only with a bluer shade, same deep chocolate brown eyes, and surprisingly his hair did stand in the same shape and form as his uncles and mother. Baby fat made his body seem short and stumpy, but as a scientist Cornelius understood that this was only temporarily-he himself stood a good 6'2 and Franny, although a woman stood at a nice 5'6, so their son was not doom for shortness. What could he say? Genetics worked in a strange way.

"And she certainly knows how to dress to impress," she snickered at her joke, "now, Tadpole, what do you tell Daddy?"

"Gots to get movin!" "Gots to get goin'!" He jumped up and down excitedly, the childish delight filling the cluttered room immediately. Fran looked around the room, and Cornelius could sense a tint of distaste as she stared at it, but as quickly as it came, the fleeting feeling dissolved into nothingness. Fran could not occupy herself on something for too long; she had to keep up a happy look for the party.

"Alrighty then Tadpole," she smiled, "it looks like we're ready and fashionably late for the party, so tell Daddy bye and we'll be on our way."

Cornelius gave the boy a quick peck on the forehead, "Listen to your mother and behave yourself. Make sure to have lots of fun; what the good of a party if isn't fun?"

Wilbur nodded, his chubby head bouncing up and down. From the space invasion shows he watched with his Uncle Art, he imitated the salutes in a faulty fashion, "Yeah Dad!"

Satisfying the unspoken command, Cornelius clicked his heels and saluted as well. "Mission Possible!"

"We'll be back at around nine," Fran gave him a soft kiss on the lips, "Tadpole, be grateful, you're getting to stay up late tonight." _If you don't pass out from exhaustion first. _"I'll call you when we get there, and don't worry-I'll bring leftovers for the family." Placing Wilbur on the side of her hip, she traveled quickly and carefully down the stairs without any complications in her heels. Cornelius had his arms open when she handed the toddler to him while she went around the house, grabbing this and that, making sure she appeared as wonderful as she possibly could, and that her notes were with her.

Holding the cooing boy in his arms, Cornelius watch as his wife disappeared into another room and pulled out the keys to the car. Taking one last look at her figure, dress, and hair, she nodded to herself in agreement.

"Everything is check and done," she sighed, "now, Tadpole, lets roll out."

When she returned, wrapping her slender arms around Wilbur, Cornelius held onto the boy. His grip around his son tightened, and his eyes stared down at hers. Fran had to admit; one of the features of her husband that she did not like was his eyes. Perfectly crafted behind a shard of glass, once the shards were removed, crystalline blue eyes appeared thickly into view. In this instance he had his glasses on, and she could not feel the full momentum of the eyes, but she could still feel it and that was not a good sign.

"Francesca," her named spilled out his mouth coolly, "we need to talk."

Wilbur was going to become involved in a tug of war, "Not now Cornelius, not now. We'll talk about it later." She tugged on her son once again but to no avail; Cornelius stood before her, defiant and withholding.

"You said that last time and the time before that Franny." He sighed, "It's been a week, and I'm guessing you're planning not to talk about it."

"Well Lewis, it's been a busy week. We'll talk about it later-when I'm not busy." After a brief struggle over the innocent bystander, Franny was able to pull Wilbur from his father's arms, and hurried out to the car. He followed them; his slow and attentive steps masked his wife's hurried and swift steps.

When they made it outside, it was midday and the sun was beginning to set. The car, which had been in the family for a decade or so, stood waiting for them in the front. He guessed Fran had already parked it there early just in case Wilbur chose to rock the boat-which he did.

"Lewis, do you mind?"

"Of course not." Bending down into the back seat, Cornelius hovered over his son, buckling him safely into his car seat. Grabbing the thread of thick fabric, he tugged on them to make sure that the seat would hold, God forbid, in case an accident would occur. Cornelius was dead set on changing that; one of his many project, this one had been deemed the most important, was constructing a full safe proof car seat.

Full proof.

"There, he's completely locked in. Feel good Wilbur?"

"Yah."

"Look," he could see her face scrunched up in determination, "we'll talk about _the thing_ after the party, 'kay."

The way she said it-he knew what she meant, he knew that she didn't mean it that way, but he could not help but feel the color drain from his face. Visibly taken aback from her decision to phrase her sentence, his mouth opened to retort but he could not find the words. He found out later there was no need to; Fran had given him a knowing look as her hands turned the ignition to roaring life. He did not understand what the knowing look meant, but he knew that the talk he was desperately waiting for was something that was going to take a seat back.

"Bye Daddy! Bye, bye, bye!! See ya afta' da' partee!!"

In silent defeat, Cornelius raised his hand to wave back at his frantically waving son out of the window.

He continued to wave even though his son had long ago ceased and was flying off in the car down the street, mixing in with the traffic of the day. His hands were dug deeply into his pants' pockets, colored with black and blue, grease and oil forever staining his favorite pair of jeans. He chose to stand outside for a bit longer. He was an inventor, a scientist, and most scientists dreaded the heat of the sun and the smell of the outdoors.

Cornelius had to admit, something he knew his wife would laugh at, and that standing outside, with the wind blowing gently against his hair, hitting the nerves just right, was not as bad as he previously thought.

Eventually, he stalked back into the empty home, which seemed as cold and drained as he felt.

* * *

**A/N**: Well, here it is folks, Chapter 2. I'm sure most of you are wondering how and when will our lovey, chubby, squishy, baby-smelling Wilbur will find out-all in due time. I love all this drama between Cornelius and Franny, so much fun. I also loved writing about toddler Wilbur. Cutesy, wutsey Wilbur!

To all those who choose to read, review, or do anything else of the sort, thank you! Have a safe and happy Easter!


	3. Cake Wars

**A/N: **I have arrived once again, I shall not stop!!

I do not own Meet the Robinsons. I checked it out from my local library, but I do not OWN it-which sucks. All rights belong to Disney

Enjoy!

* * *

"Thank God, you made it!"

Fran could literally feel her arm go pop as she was pulled into the house without notice. Along with her, Wilbur laughed gleefully as he was pulled in, smiling wildly as he took in his surroundings. He was itching to be released, to find others like him, and cause chaos, but Fran held him tightly to her waist. She was not going down without a fight, and she was not planning to.

"Oh Francesca, I didn't know what to do!" The woman breathed in deeply, "I thought you weren't coming for a moment; so many have gone, and you were no where to be seen, jeez sweetie-I thought-"

"Sandra McClain, do you know how long I've waited for this? I said I was coming and I am here. Now, where do I put my things?"

"Oh love, you can put them in the storage room. All the other musicians are placing their things there as well. As for Wilbur, cutie lil' pie you are, he can go with the rest of the children in the play pen-now, hurry, hurry, you're going to be going up soon."

Most people would have been able to comprehend the string of words thrown out so quickly, but having a husband like Cornelius made Fran a professional at word round ups. So swiftly following the blond lady in pink, holding Wilbur in one arm and carrying her things in the other, Fran was led into a maze filled with luxury and chaos.

"Here's the storage room honey bunny," Sandra led the way to a small door. It stood from the rest of the massive home, which strangely appeared smaller on the outside; completely isolated from the rest, Fran assumed because of the many things the room held that it was a precaution. When Sandra opened the door, Fran's jaw could have dropped to the clear, clean marble floor.

The storage room was big, very big.

"Now Honey Bunny, don't stand there staring. I know its big, but me and my lovebug-Bobby, you remember him don't you? Well he could not think of a single thing to do with this room, so he we just made it into a storage room! Good thing too! Because I would not have known where to put all these musical instruments!"

The room was silent, much in contrast the loud music outside. The two walked swiftly down the room; Sandra's dark blue eyes glancing over each label over the equally large cabinets that held the musicians instruments and whatever else they chose to bring. "Ah yes, _Francesca Robinson _that doo-hookie your husband built really came in handy. I could not have written all these labels on my own, how he's doing anyway?"

"Oh Cornelius?" Fran had placed Wilbur down to make sure she divided her things equally from her suitcase. "He's doing fine, back at the house fixing up some new contraction."

"You're so lucky you know!"

Keeping her eyes glued to her notes and belongings, Fran only gave a quick glance at Sandra, "Oh am I? Why do you say that?"

"Now come on lovie," Sandra rolled her eyes as if she were speaking to a child, "you're husband has become one of the-no, he is the most accomplished inventor of all time, all before 30! And you, you're becoming well known as well in the musical industry! I can't wait to hear you play tonight!"

"Yes…hear me play." Fran ignored a raging feeling that started to swell inside her. Forcing the statement Sandra had said earlier into retreat into her subconscious, Fran stood at her full height and cautiously placed her things in the cabinet. A sudden coldness had formed around her, a hardness that she felt growing with each silent second; she grabbed her son's tiny hand, and she could have sworn that even Wilbur felt something was wrong with his mother. He whimpered but his whimpers fell on deaf ears.

"Where do I bring Wilbur? Will _he_ hear me play?"

"Oh Honey Bunny of course he will!" Her thick valley girl accent echoed in the room, "That is where I'm bringing you now! Oh Willie Doo, you'll love it there!"

Once again, Fran was swooped away into an unknown land.

Fran did not remember Sandra's house being so large, but the woman did tell her the last time they had seen each other that she was remodeling. They had been doing a lot of remodeling since winning that prize money too. Fran did not comment on the extravagance; she had resumed carrying Wilbur because he could not catch up to the speed the women were walking at.

"The back yard had to be redone you know. This festival, we've been waiting for months, and I know you've been waiting as well. Wait 'til Charlene sees you; well, I think she's performing right now."

"Charlene!" Fran did appear visibly shock, "I did not…well, I knew she was going to perform, but she said that she wanted to go last."

Sandra giggled at her guest's ignorance. "Yes, it would be Charlene to want to go last or first, you know her. But she couldn't because someone else had already taken her place. But I'll give her credit-she handled it pretty well."

_I can only imagine what she really wanted to do. _Fran shook her head at the image that she thought of. She had to fight off bursting from a fit of laugher at the image. It would only be Charlene who she could think of doing something as outrageous at that…

"Now hon, I know it may not look like much. But we've been designing and roughing up to please everyone." They had stopped at a set of two doors; unlike the previous one, cold and lonely, Fran knew this pair led into something wild. Without thinking, her grasp on Wilbur tightened. This was big night after all.

"Welcome to Paris," Sandra dramatized deeply.

The doors opened.

(Perfect place for a cliffhanger)

The life in the back yard would loud and ground shaking. It did remind her of Paris; well, it reminded her of the magazines she had seen of Paris, never being there did put a damper on the experience. It did not lessen the experience of the now; the yard was large enough to hold a few hundreds of people, and Fran could see there were a few hundreds of people. Chairs and tables alike were placed in various spots in the section to accommodate to the large number of people present; Fran could also see that the ring that formed in the area was not only to help with the number of people.

Narrowing her eyes ever so slightly, a sly grin formed onto her face, "Well I be darn." _Should've known._

In the middle of the commotion, a large band stood vibrantly, swinging out blasted notes and melodies. Each tune was in balance with the others, and sounds that were emitting from the mass of people performing held a southern jazz-ness about it. It should be so, because of the woman who was orchestrating the band. Moving in the flow of the music, her bubble dress bouncing softly against her rough movements. Fran could see that Charlene's eyes were closed as she conducted, allowing her ears to be her eyes as she told her southern story with music.

"_I sing the blues of the delta…"_ The baritone pushed out on cue. Yes, he was a heavy set black man; Fran recalled seeing him at practice. _One of the best out there, sure of it! Just need to open that shell._

_It seems he's coming outta that shell, Charlie. _

"_They ain't nice, they ain't cool, they dirrrttttyyyy those blues of the delta…"_

The woman kicked her heels in the air as far as she would allow, while giving a brilliant smile as she did so.

"What a show off."

"What was that Franny?"

"Oh nothing," she laughed, "nothing at all."

"Well, we might as well go find the children." Smiling a flash of white at Wilbur, "Don't you want to find your friends Wilbur dear, we've got lots of goodies for you!" The look of Wilbur made it known to the women that the boy was tired of waiting, and that he would soon take off before anyone could stop him-he was going to find fun whether or not they liked it or not.

"Come on hon," Fran tugged Wilbur along, "Charlie's waiting."

She thought picking him up again would make things go faster, but after seeing Charlene perform she knew she had to be at tip top shape to out do her fellow conductor. Amongst the swell of people there at the festival, there were many other renowned conductors as well. Giovanni, Thompson, and Lancelin were only a few names included in the large number of big shots that were at the festival. One day…one day she was going to be one of them too, and she would make sure of it.

"Charlie!" The high pitch squeal of her two year old son broke Fran from her personal observations. Jumping at the sudden sound, she felt the need to reprimand her son for the interference, but when she took note of his excited expression and followed the gaze…she couldn't help smiling.

Releasing her hand from Wilbur's, Fran watched with a peaceful smile as her son waddled his way into the children's area, reaching a boy around the same age as he.

"Those two are tighter than two peas in a pod!"

"I know," Fran chuckled, "funny how things turn out?"

"Um…Sandy, have the boys arrived?" She was itching to meet with her own band. She had told them at their last rehearsal that they would arrive before her. A gleeful look on Sandra's face reassured her inner restlessness. "Oh Honey Bunny, of course they have arrived! Take a look over there." The woman pointed straight across, behind the performing band, and the rumbling toddlers. An area, much like the isolated storage room, it was in a secured section. Away from the chaos, away from the loud music; it was a section for the musicians themselves, to relax, to be with their peers.

"I had to have my lovebug make a section for the performers," Sandra nearly exploded with childish delight, "it took some time and some effort, but we got it going! Don't stand there gaping lovie-go to your band, Charlene's gonna be done soon!"

"What about Wilbur-"

"Don't fret lovie, we have several nannies, watching them, besides he's happier than a bees knees!"

Taking a quick glance, they caught a piece of flying cake slam straight into Wilbur's face. Then another was flung in Charlie's direction.

"To da death Carlie!!"

"To da death Bert!!"

"Um…see lovie! They doing fine, and don't worry 'bout that cake-it'll come straight off in the wash!"

Fran was going to protest. Then Wilbur gave an out a strange war cry and threw another piece of cake at Charlie, who had gotten hit in the head with it. It was only a matter of time before the battle became a war, and Fran could see it coming-other children were getting hit and interested.

"That's why we have maids!"

_Not even your maids would want to scrub up this mess._

The mess was quickly growing stronger; Wilbur and Charlie had created fractions of soldiers on opposing sides who found it fun to follow the lead of two year olds. Thankfully, the sections were divided from one another.

"Might as well go. Have fun honey!"

Wilbur didn't hear her.

Concern over her son began to slowly drift from her thoughts as she got closer to her element of expertise. The group of band members was of an average size; she knew space was limited, no matter how much Sandra wanted her guests to think otherwise, and that this was one of her many efforts for no one to realize that. Fran's thoughts were not occupied on it; she made her way through, and feeling a rush of excitement (much like Wilbur) she found her band and she found them.

Lights, bright, wonderful lights were perched over their heads. The moon shining brighter than ever on this spectacular night of nights.

"Mrs. Robinson!"

"Fred!"

Emerging from the group, her main singer, a rich, full voice, yet with a lanky, stringy body Fred Williams arrived, his glittering emerald orbs filled with anticipation and a bounce to a step, he grasped Franny's hand with only the thrill a pupil can hold to its master.

"Do you know how worried the boys and I were?" His freckles seemed to jump out more with the lights and his rushing emotions, "We almost thought that you weren't going to make it!"

"What is with this lack of faith in me!?" She did not know the squirmy feelings her laughter brought to the singer, "I said I was going to come, and I did. Why would I miss one of the most important nights of my life?" Releasing the limp hold Fred had on her arm, she walked around the circular area, her heels clicking with each step. The enlarge verandah was able to fit the numerous set of band members with ease; Fran marveled at what money can do and buy.

The smooth texture the wood of the deck brought tingles down her spine; she was itching for her turn.

"Are you boys ready?"

"Absolutely."

"Do we need to go over the notes, the music again?"

"Mrs. Robinson! We've gone over it three times in a row this morning, and a few more times in the afternoon."

Breathing deeply, "You are right. I guess I have the jitterbugs; where are the others?"

"They are getting the instruments ready. Miss Charlene will be finished soon."

An uncomfortable silence soon followed.

"Wilbur is starting a cake war, and Mr. Robinson is completing another of his inventions." Unconsciously, after letting the words float into the air, Fran laid one of her hands over her abdomen. A funny feeling was riling inside her, and it was not one of those "ha-ha" ones.

"I can hear the music; she's closing." Fran turned to him and gave him a brilliant smile, "Its show time Fred!"

* * *

**A/N:** Another chapter done, another chapter to complete. I have a vision for this story, and I hope I can complete it. To warn any reader, the ocs will not be making numerous appearances in the story, they're here and there. They are not the story. I mentioned Charlie in Baby and Me. I hope you like him. I hope more of you join the vision though; its not fun when you're alone. Any type of feedback is appreciated and loved; anything to make this story better and more entertaining.

To those who read, reviewed, or did anything else of the sort thank you so much. It encourages me to keep going, and it gives me a fuzzy feeling inside knowing someone enjoyed my writing.

Have a bless day! Ciao! ^^


	4. Throwing Chunks!

**A/N: **I was asked, "Is Fred a Frog?" And the answer is no. My reason for this is that Fran is still planning her big debut with her frogs. They'll make appearances throughout the story later on, but I'm saving them for later.

I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you for the reviews!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Meet the Robinsons. Doing this for fun a.k.a do not sue Diseny-you won't be getting nothing!!**

* * *

"Cornelius, is everything alright?"

Cornelius could have jumped at the contact. He had never been as comfortable with human contact as he would have liked, and sulking in the dimness of the living room did not help his problem. The tender touch of another human brought an unnerving reaction, and he found his muscles tensing without thinking. He didn't jump; he remained glued onto the worn couch, his fingers dangling with a half-finished project that he wasn't aware of until now. "Hmm…come again?"

Lucille always understood her son's wariness of the human touch. Hugs were never a problem, nor were kisses, but it seemed, ever since he was a boy, that a simple hand shake or a pat on the back would unpack a set of nerves carefully preserved inside his brain. He had always been sensitive about that, and in more ways than one he had tried to pass simply as something that would pass over the years. Years had passed, and Cornelius still seemed jumpy.

"Is anything wrong?" He didn't know anyone was still home. Art had left on an emergency delivery earlier that morning, and Budd had departed to Lucky Lakes for his annual fishing trip. As for Lucille, Cornelius had to recall that he did not know where his mother had departed for the day. "No, nothing's wrong Mom, um…where did you come from?"

At this, Lucille could not hold back a chuckle. "I had left this morning for the grocery shopping, and I came home later on this evening." In her grandmotherly fashion, she reached over the aged couch, taking a seat beside her son. On the living room table, pieces of table and scrap were spread over, leaving oil stains and other gooey messes all over. "I take you've been trying to fix something up!"

Cornelius bit his lip and nodded. "Yes, I've been _trying_ to fix something up. It seems I don't know what that something is anymore." His shoulders felt heavier than before, and he lowered his head in shame. Lucille watched her son with unwavering understanding, and it was an understanding that Cornelius had no clue about.

"Do you have any blueprints ready?" Her eyes scanned the mess. Even she could not detect a scrap of paper hinting at a blueprint. It came to her in a rush; it was obvious that her son was simply working just to be working. There was no inspiration, motivation, not a spec of creativity in this. Above anyone in the family, Lucille knew that without a reason to do, Cornelius would forever be in a slump. "I'll take that as a no."

"I had one…" he caught her skeptic gaze, "but I threw it away."

"And why would you do something like that? You know you need a blue print, dear."

"I-I was going to keep it, you know, I always keep my blueprints, even for failed attempts. It's just that this one, I don't even know what to call it anymore! I didn't have the heart to bring it to the garage or even to the lab! It's just that bad!" He had to catch a breath he didn't even know he was holding until he finished rambling. Wires, metals, and other pieces of the failed attempt surrounded the table, and some dripping onto the carpet. _That is never going to come out. _"Well, honey, maybe you're doing something not in the blueprints, flying solo I presume."

The normally composed man found himself unraveling. "I don't know Mom, I don't know."

There were times in the past when Cornelius would run to Lucille in tears. She did not know what the problem was, but she always found herself opening her arms readying herself for a hug without hesitating. Those years were over, of course, but this moment happening reminded her of those times. How fondly she looked back at them. Attentively, she placed her clean hand over his smudged one and gave him a comforting smile. As if they had played this role only seconds before instead of years ago, Cornelius curled his hand into hers, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Glad to see that you're calming dear; now, how far along is she?"

A pang of shock ran through him when those words came from his mother. His grip tightened but only slightly, and he found his eyes widening. Behind his glasses, Lucille could have laughed at his bewildered expression, but her motherly tone pulled her away from doing so. "You-wait, how did you, how could you," he stated incredulously but not pulling away, "we haven't told anyone."

Shaking her head at his look of shock, she let out a small laugh, "Honey, I'm a woman and more importantly I'm a grandmother. We grandmas have our ways of finding out." He was ready to open his mouth and respond with the illogical sense of her statement, but he could not find a word to retort with his mother's. In a resigned manner he only nodded, finding himself at a lost with words.

"Do you know how far she is?" He gave out a shaky "no" and found himself sinking again.

Lucille was treading of shaky grounds and she knew it. "Are you happy that she's expecting?" When those words came out, Cornelius could have thrown up. He knew his mother did not mean anything cruel with her words, she was just asking, but deep down inside-behind the internal organs, he had to ask himself the same question. _Are you happy?_

"Yes. I'm very happy." A relief washed over him, ending the seemingly lifelong pause. "I'm extremely happy. Wilbur needs a sibling, but…"

"Franny isn't happy." The look on her son's face, in that instance she wished to turn back the clock of time and wrap him up in her arms again. The distant expression, miserable she had to say, made her uncomfortable and protective. Emotions she had not felt since the day her son came to her on the topic of marriage. "I don't know if she is or if she isn't. We've discussed it, the possibility of another pregnancy, but now-it seems, she's been avoiding the topic all together now, and I don't know what to do."

It had been a week; he counted. He would breach the discussion, hoping to lead her into a conversation or an argument at least, but she would see right through it. Sometimes, he did not even have to try. He would idly bring it up, and she would have something to do. Rehearsal with the boys. Have to train Frankie and the troupe. Always an excuse, always something that needed to be done, but this, the baby, could not be touched, could not be discussed. He had been shot down so many times, he had somehow given up hope; after tonight, before she left, he did make it clear that it was necessary that they do discuss it, if not for themselves but for the sake of the child.

Lucille sat quietly beside her son, her attention never fading and her grasp on his hand never lifting. Sinking all the information, from the beginning of Fran's symptoms to the decision to take the home test, she sat silently, her brain processing all the information. When he had finally finished his tale of woe he seemed drained and paler than usual. "Lewis, based off what you have said, it sounds like Franny is afraid."

He nearly growled, "I'm afraid too Mom, but I'm not doing _this_. It's not right and more importantly, it's not fair."

"No, its not, but you have to understand." Her voice was the opposite of Cornelius' bubbling anger. "You have to understand that as a woman-Franny is allowed to be afraid. I'm sure she is happy, and I am positive that she wants the baby, but she's afraid, Lewis. She's afraid of the birth itself; she's afraid of what things will change after the birth."

"Isn't that the point of a new baby?" He stated in a dry tone, "Babies come, things change. We've got to move forward."

"And I am sure that is what Fran plans to do." Patting his hand, "But Lewis, remember this, Franny is not your mother." She quickly added on when she saw his face contort into something misunderstanding and shock, "She's not going to give up on you and Wilbur. She's not going to give up on _this_." Taking another heavy sigh, Lucille released her hand from Cornelius and gave him a soft pat on the back, "Just think about it son. I'm sure you two will do fine. You're father's going to be home soon; I need to get these groceries up!"

"Oh, let me help you!"

Lucille shook her head and motioned for him to sit, and he did. "No, no, no you need to think and breathe. You also need to clean up that mess you made, but think about it first okay?" She finished her statement with a kiss on his forehead, smiling, before she walked off into the kitchen, humming a little tune. Cornelius slumped into the warmth of the couch, pondering over what his mother had told him.

* * *

"What a lady!"

"She really knows how to blow the house!"

Words of encouragement and compliments brought a strong, satisfied small on Fran's face. _If only they could hear Frankie; he'll tear the house down. _She mused lightly; this caused a slight tumbling inside her. She dismissed it off, the show must go on!

"Oh, doesn't she look lovely." Moving her small hips left to right in rhythm to the music, Sandra could not help but pull off a pearly white smile of liking. Not only was her first festival going great, but the performances were better! All her guests, even the stuck up "old age" composers could not help but tap their feet and stare in both awe and pleasure of the ever young Francesca Robinson. What a wonderful idea it was to invite her!

Solemnly standing beside the moving Sandra, her hands crossed over her chest, and her cynic eyes tracing over the music and band members, Charlene kept her face pressed down on a firm measure. "Don't you think she's a bit off?"

"Oh, you're just jealous!" Sandra twirled, "She's grabbing in even the snooty patooties!"

Charlene ignored the earlier comment, only narrowing her eyes. There was definitely something off. "I don't know Sandy. It just seems, something is not right. She's lacking something."

"Honestly Charlie love," Sandra's pink bubble dress was all Charlene could see, "if you have something negative to say then say it later. Voices carry you know!"

"Yes, yes I know." A grimace was developing on her face, "She's doing fine I supposed, but it's not like what it was at rehearsal." She could not pin point it, but she could feel it. Although she had been mocked about her "superstitions", Charlene had never been wrong about them before and she didn't plan for them to be wrong now.

"If you're going to be a sloth in a tree, I'm gonna go dance with my lovebug, oh lovie poo!!" Sandra McClain waltzed over to her husband, who had seen too many late night binges at the refrigerator.

"_Over and over I fall back in love with you…"_

What a funny feeling it was. It was bubbly feeling; a strange feeling that tickled her insides. Fred's voice was enticing the crowd. If she could hold out for only a little bit longer, then she could make her get away. Sandra and Charlene could watch Wilbur, of only for a few minutes.

"_I could never love a girl like youuuuuu!!!"_

High notes had never been Fred's strong point. It had taken them many late nights forcing his vocal chords to agree with their desires. Fran could not have been prouder than she was of her main singer; his voice was pulling her through the night. This night was not only a potential night for her, but for her band as well. They were all holding out on this performance, and Fran was going to make sure that she was going to make her boys get through this.

Even if it meant holding down a large case of bile forcing its way out.

"Francesca Robinson and her Froggy Troupe, give her a hand everyone!!"

It was over, finally. She could breathe out a breath of relief, she had made it. Her slim figure, despite her first pregnancy, turned towards the crowd and made a short curtsy. The applause was roaring, not as roaring as her seniors (the grudgingly respectful ones), but it was still a roaring applause. The feeling inside was becoming harsher now, and a small headache was creeping into her temples, but she could handle it.

"Absolutely fantastic, such poise, such refined movements, my dear you are a professional!"

"Why thank you, but I could not have done it without my boys. Please, give them a hand!"

She blew a kiss to the young men on stage, and gracefully she made her way down the stairs. As she walked towards the bottom, Fran could swear that her vision was getting blurry; as she did earlier and several times before, she brushed off the feeling and found her eyesight in focus. She could not get the focus on her body; the feeling was getting stronger and stronger, the bile wanted to be release. Pressing a smile on her face, both a mixture of frustration, nauseous, and happiness, she made her way towards the small mob of people circling around her.

"I've heard that you were good, but not this good!"

"Oh my, you must participate in the Grand Musical Festival Mrs. Robinson; you'll be amazing!"

"Thank you, thank you. Oh yes, my boys and I practice at least three times a week. For the Festival, I'll think about it." She tactfully kept up with the hurling questions, but her steps were wavering, she was wavering. So many people, so many of them, not enough to hold on to.

"Mrs. Robinson…"

Afraid to open her mouth.

"Mrs. Robinson…"

She couldn't open her mouth.

"Franny…Franny honey bunny, you're looking a bit green."

She was gone.

* * *

"Everyone move!" Hunching over, Fran's mouth open widely to release the contents of her previous meal. As she threw up, she felt her feet moving still, and around her body a pair of equally thin arms, securing her from the growing mob. "That's okay Franny, that's okay, come on, hold on to me-we're almost there."

She heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Still, she did not know where she was. She didn't need to answer, her head was dunk into a toilet and she knew where she was. The soothing voice over head continued to ring her ears, "Its alright, come on, throw it all up. You're going to be fine."

Her head was inside a toilet, her body was forcing out all its contents, and she could still hear.

"Hey Lewis, this is Charlene. Oh yes, yes the festival went fine-well, Franny, she was great until…oh, don't over react! She just threw up that's all, that's all." She released a sigh of exasperation, "You're overreacting again. Look, I'm going to bring her home and Wilbur. Do not worry; she's fine, I'm just going to clean her up and I'll drive her home. All her things are being packed as we speak, we'll be home in the next thirty minutes."

Spitting out the last piece of bile, Franny's head poked out from the toilet and her body hit the wall with a soft thud. "Duke will be arriving shortly. I called him up, he was already at a convention nearby, he'll be driving my car and bring home Charles. But, I will be bringing Franny and Wilbur home, just keep a light on, 'kay? Good, bye Lewis and remember-do not overreact-breathe."

The sound of the click meant the ending of the conversation.

Using what little strength she had left, Fran pushed herself up onto the toilet seat, not caring if she got vomit on her dress or not.

"If it means anything, they loved you out there." Charlene shrugged, "You were pretty stiff out there though."

She laughed a little, "I'm sure they love me much more since I threw up all over them." Head hung low, she laughed a little more to keep the tears from rolling down.

"Sweetie, trust me, they're not worrying about your after show." Her laughter reeling her in, "Trust me, I got enough of it on my dress." Raising her head, Fran's eyes widened, and then a pitiful but humorous look crossed her features. "Oh, oh-I'm so sorry Charlie," she choked back a laugh, "I didn't know where I was aiming!"

Nicely placed in the middle of her dress, a large brownish-yellowish stain was pressed onto Charlene's dress. Using a towel she found on a rack, the woman tried to wipe away the mess in vain. "It's not funny you know," she scowled, "I'm glad you find amusement at my humiliation."

"No, no," she laughed hysterically, "I don't find-well, yes I do, it's just that I was so worried about puking on someone else, I didn't think you would be standing right in front of me!" Charlene frowned at her friends amused state; clutching her arms around her waist, her lips sprawled out in uncontrolled laughter. Her appearance may be disapproving, but Fran knew that her feelings were the opposite.

"Ha-ha it is funny, ha-ha it is to laugh. Good to see you're doing better; now get up before your husband has a heart attack."

"If you had only told me…"

"Sandy, please, I'm sorry if I ruined your evening."

"Ruined? Honey Bunny, you made the party! Everyone's talking about ya!"

"Oh really…"

"Next time, if you're not feeling well, you better say something!" Sandy perked up, "Don't worry about it! All is well!"

"You're darn straight she better say something next time," Charlene called from the car, "now, hurry up, this stuff is starting to _smell_!"

The party had only just begun. It was ending early for Fran. Duke was waiting patiently in his car with his sleeping toddler in the back seat, much like her own. She only caught a glimpse of the man, his face appeared stoic in the night, his lips pressed firmly into a grim line. As Fran walked towards the running car, she saw a glimmer of a smile on his lips and he nodded slowly; she could only return the sentiment before getting in the passenger seat.

"Is Wilbur strapped in?"

"Yes, he is. Duke made sure." Charlene made her way out of the driveway, "Poor baby, completely tuckered out, and its only 9:30!"

"That's a good thing." Fran sighed, "Only have to clean and tuck him in."

"Same with Charles, cake wars can be so vexing." The duo shared a brief laugh; then they went silent. Duke followed them, pausing every now and then because of traffic signals. Fran took quick glances at Charlene and vice versa, "I guess you want to know what happened."

"Just waiting for you to start talking."

Fran knew she was. It was always like this. Fran would blow up, and Charlene would be sitting by just waiting. Sometimes, if only once, Fran wish it could be the other way around. For right now, she would have to settle for this, "We got into a fight."

"Naturally."

"He doesn't think I want the baby," she sighed, "but I do want it."

"Have you ever given him any reason not to think that way?" She clutched the driver's wheel, "Remember Franny, Cornelius was abandoned-" Fran shot her look that could have killed her right then and there, "You think I don't know that!?"

"Of course you do-let me finish," she stated sharply, "if you act a bit distant or avoiding him slash the baby topic (she shot her look) then he's going to take it in a different way-a bad way. All I'm saying is that you have anything you have to tell him, then just tell him because I don't have time for all this drama!"

"You always say that." She rolled her eyes, "When don't you have drama going on in your life." Leaning back into the passenger seat, "I don't know. There are so many things to do with a baby. With Cornelius job and his parents and Art and Wilbur, I don't think we'll have the time to raise another baby." Hearing those words out loud, Fran knew how true they were. There were many things to do with a new baby; how could they handle it now? Cornelius was already a renowned inventor, his future was secured, but they were still working up. _He's not at his height, yet, and neither am I._

"We're not at that point in our lives yet, you know. So many things…" Trailing off when she didn't know she was, Fran slumped into her eat, feeling dejected.

"While I'm pleased to hear you tell me these things, you should tell Cornelius." She laughed softly, "That's why you're married, and besides Duke and I have own marital issues to go through."

"Wait what, what's going-"

"Another time, another pregnancy," she gave her a stern look, "don't worry-with a man like Cornelius, you four will be fine. He has to be most patient man on the planet, well, the most patient one I've ever met."

"Yes," Fran mused, "he really is understanding." Approaching the Robinson home, the two ladies saw the said man running towards the moving car. Ensuring that she did not hit the overly worried, panicked, husband and father, Charlene parked directly on the driveway. Unbuckling their seat belts, and moving swiftly to unbuckle Wilbur before her husband starting the honking the horn, Charlene handed the sleeping toddler to his mother, without getting bile on him.

"Franny, oh my god, I was worried!" He reached the three, panic visibly shown, "I told you shouldn't have gone, are you okay, is the baby alright?"

"Lewis, Lewis," she pacified him, "don't get so worked up, it's only morning sickness. Well, I guess, its night sickness." She laughed.

Cornelius' concern did not wash away so easily. He stood above the women and scanned his wife with the same set of eyes he scanned whenever he was not sure on whether or not a project was completed or not, but she had shown no injury and seemed healthy enough. _We are definitely visiting the doctor. _Wil was sleeping soundly on her shoulder; it was fine, he guessed.

"Charlene," he reached out to hug her, "oh-oh, eh, eh-_ewww_."

"Yes, yes, I know I'm covered in your wife's throw up-I hope she's happy!" She turned away from him, rushing to her husband who was waiting patiently in the car on the street, "And I hope you're happy too Robinson, you're paying the bill!"

"Thank you Charlene!" He wrapped his arm around his wife and son, bringing the two close to him, "Night Duke and I will be paying the bill, send it to me!" The woman waved him off, and her husband gave him a slight wave. She entered the waiting car, and they drove off into the night, their car disappearing from view in the darkness. The three stood out in the night, watching them go, and Cornelius gave Fran a soft kiss on her forehead.

Chuckling, "I guess I have some 'splannin to do."

"Yes you do," they began to walk towards the house. He made sure the door was lock and ready, the alarm went off immediately, "It can wait until morning; we have to tuck in Wil."

Fran's waiting form turned to him, smiling softly as she did so. Her lips were curved up in a half form way, not yet a smile and not yet a frown. He never understood how someone could make such a delicate and somehow beautiful form; his Fran had always been the one to do the impossible. "What happened to Wil? He's drooling away."

"He and Charlie had a cake war during the party," she bounced him softly, "isn't that right, Tadpole?"

They were responded with a sleepy nod and more drool.

Cornelius turned off the last set of lights and ascended the stairs along with his wife and sleeping son. Things were not set right yet, not as they should, but he could feel it-they were moving in the right direction. After all, all they had to do to make it where they want to be is to keep moving forward.

* * *

**A/N: **Charlene appeared in "Rebellion at its Greenest" I had so much fun with her I didn't want to let her go. I think Fran could use a friend like her, considering that she and Wilbur are alike when she was a girl. She's Franny's Carl to Wilbur.

"Annoying little girl I don't have time for this, I have a very important-"

"Don't sass me boy. I know Karate!!" Karate chop!!

Me: "Full of Win."

You can tell that they are related; its too canny! Love those two. We really need more fics with little Franny and Wilbur together. All the trouble they will cause.

All type of reviews, alerts, favorites, and etc. are greatly appreciated!! Thank you for the fun!


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